The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (58 page)

Caecilia glanced over at her sleeping husband. “Then we need not despair?”

Tarchon took both her hands in his. “The gods have not deserted us yet, Caecilia. The Romans may well be routed if enough of the Rasenna rise.” He looked across to his father. “But we need him to lead us. We need him to be our ruler.”

Caecilia shook her head, aware the pressures of command were already mounting even as Vel lay injured. “We need him to recover first.”

“
May he heal swiftly then. There is much to do. Many are now agreeing with Sethre that Vipinas is the traitor.”

She remembered how the grieving princip wept over his dead grandson. Perhaps the old man would welcome death. “He is no traitor.”

Tarchon grimaced. “He is a king killer, Caecilia. Few would agree with you.”

“
Kurvenas said I was the treacherous one.”

“
That is a chorus we have heard before.”

The wry reply made her smile.

He patted her hand again and stood. “You must rest. All this can wait until tomorrow.”

Raking her fingers through her hair, she massaged her scalp, trying to ease the ache, doubting she could sleep. “Has Artile truly gone?”

“
He cannot be found. And although we may welcome his departure, the loss of the chief haruspex will be keenly felt.”

“
Then they should seek him in Velzna.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“
Because …” Suddenly she could no longer be brave, no longer calm. The horror of the day, and all the days before, welled in her. “Because …”

She halted, unable to make a sound as the sob rose within her. Her distress hung suspended until, surging, it was expelled in one long, loud lamentation.

Tarchon lifted her then sat down with her on his lap, ignoring his wound. Crying, she put her arms around his neck. “So much has happened.”

“
Hush, all this can wait until tomorrow.” Stroking her hair, he held her as she wept. A closeness between them. The foundation of their friendship solid, past arguments forgotten. With Tarchon she could be vulnerable. He had comforted her this way many times before. He was a confidant on whom she’d relied when first a bride and now a matron.

After a time she wiped her eyes, realizing she’d not consoled him about his own sadness. “I’m sorry about Sethre.”

Tarchon eased her from his lap before standing. His small smile did not hide dejection as he kissed her cheek. “I will think about that—tomorrow.”

Glossary

Cast

In the dimness outside the circle of the candle’s light,
Semni sensed Arruns before she saw him standing at the cell door.

She left Nerie sleeping on the bed and ran to him
, slipping her arms around his waist.
“I feared you would be kill—”

He did not wait for her to finish, instead lifted her by the waist and pressed her against the wall, his kiss urgent. Her astonishment lasted only a fraction, opening her mouth to his tongue as she hitched up her chiton. He no longer wore his battle-stained tunic. Bare-chested above his short kilt, the muscles of his chest and abdomen were defined beneath the coils of the snake. His skin was still wet from where he’d washed away the mud and his master’s blood. He rammed into her as she stood on tiptoes, crushed against him. She’d not been taken so roughly for a long time and welcomed his power.

Grasping her wrists, he held her arms above her against the wall. She wanted to run her hands over the broad expanse of his shoulders and back yet the restraint heightened her excitement. She moaned at each thrust but, intent and hungry, he made little sound. His head was bent to hers, the tattoo flush against her skin. She drew back, licking the inked pattern before nipping his earlobe. He grunted and bit into her shoulder through the cloth. With the pain and surprise came her rush. Shuddering, she cried out, sensing him following, but then another surprise—groaning, he pulled out of her suddenly, his hot seed spurting over her belly.

Her disappointment was strong, her anger too. She struggled to free herself from his grip. “Why didn’t you finish inside me?”

Releasing her wrists, he wrapped his arms around her, his breath uneven. His hug was tender after the fierceness of their coupling. “Because I want no more of our children to be born into this war.”

Semni wriggled from his embrace to look at him. “Our children?”

“
I want to claim Nerie. I want you to be my wife.”

“
Truly?”

His face with its hooked nose and hooded lids was serious. “After facing battle today—after seeing the general injured—I was so glad to be alive. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

She laughed, happy, so happy, but as she raised her arms to encircle his neck she winced, the bite on her shoulder hurting.

Arruns noticed her flinch. He slipped the chiton from her shoulder to reveal teeth marks in her flesh. He touched the spot gently with calloused fingers. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Semni thought of the aged Velthur, and how both needed to use a switch to stir them. “I don’t mind a little pain,” she teased. “At least you didn’t draw blood like my old husband.”

He raised his eyebrows causing her to laugh.

The touch of Nerie’s hand on her leg startled her. The toddler was grizzling, bleary-eyed from being woken from his slumber. “Hush,” she said, picking him up.

Arruns smiled, scooping up both mother and child and carrying them to the bed where he sat with them on his lap. Content between them, Nerie nestled close.

She laid her head on Arruns’ shoulder. “So you believe me? Believe that I did not want Aricia?”

He nodded. “I believe you. I do not think you would have prevented her taking the young master if she was your lover.”

Idly tracing the line of the serpent around his neck and across his torso, her hand drifted down to his kilt. She had yet to discover if it was a two-headed snake. “So you are proud of me?”

He covered her hand, his palm engulfing her fingers, preventing further exploration. “Yes, now tell me what happened.”

Semni felt uneasy, regretting she’d drawn his attention to Aricia’s plot. “The haruspex sent her to take Master Tas. The three of them were to travel to the Sacred College. I stopped her when
I found her coming from the wine cellar after she’d been through the secret passageway.
”

His eyes narrowed.
“And of all the slaves and servants in this house it was you who happened upon her?”

His suspicion nonplussed her. She concentrated on
Nerie.
The tot had fallen asleep again, sucking his thumb.
She laid him down on the bed, tucking in the coverlet around him
rather than look at the Phoenician.

Arruns shifted her off his lap when she didn’t reply. “Quite a coincidence.”

Again Semni was sorry she’d raised the subject.
She’d expected praise matching the gratitude of the mistress; instead Arruns was asking the questions Lady Caecilia should have asked. “Yes, it was good luck, wasn’t it?”

His
frown showed he remained unconvinced. He crossed his arms. “There was something Master Tas said that was strange. What did he mean by ‘Semni stopped her this time’?”

Nervous, she spoke rapidly as though rushing her words would convince him. “Nothing. Only that I thwarted her.”

He seized her wrist. “Did you know Aricia had
taken the boy to visit the haruspex before?”

Her heartbeat doubled, feeling trapped. “Of course not.”

His fingers dug into her flesh.
“You’re lying, Semni. I can tell.”

Now
the pain of his grip scared her. Suddenly she could pretend no longer. She wanted all to be right between them. For him to hold her and love her again. Taking a deep breath she prayed honesty would earn her a reprieve. “I did not help her but I did keep quiet.”

His silence was worse than if he’d struck her.

He let her go, staring at her as though overwhelmed in understanding what was unforgivable. “Why? Why would you do nothing? You must have known Aricia was wrong.”

She rubbed her wrist then knelt before him, grasping his knees. “Please, Arruns. Don’t you see I have been good? What does it matter what happened before? I did not let her take the boy today.”

His look was withering.
“You are such a child, Semni. Selfish and unthinking. You’re a coward, too. You should have confessed when the nursemaid was punished.”

“
And be thrown out too?” She pointed to Nerie. “He would have suffered.”

Arruns glanced at the sleeping boy.

The desperation she’d felt when her sister shunned her returned. She had not been pardoned then and she sensed there would be no forgiveness now. “Are you going to tell on me?”

He stood up as though he could not bear being near her. “No, you are going to speak out when my lord has recovered and the mistress is stronger. And you must beg their indulgence and pray for their mercy. Lady Caecilia is kind and may well be lenient because of your actions today. But the master … well, he may not be so compassionate.”

The
general. Semni had never seen him angry, but she guessed he would be terrifying. Stomach knotted, she steepled her fingers in supplication. “Please, Arruns, please don’t tell. Do you want to see me whipped? Do you want Nerie to die of hunger when we are thrown into the streets?”

Arruns reached down and lifted the boy into his arms. A killer cradling innocence. Groggy with sleep
, Nerie woke again briefly, closing his eyes when he saw it was the guard who held him. The Phoenician placed his hand upon the child’s head. “I said I’d claim him as my son. I will not see him come to harm.”

Semni sat back on her heels
, relieved. “Then you still want me as your wife? You will stay silent?”

In the flickering light from the candle, she saw him pause
.

She stood and retrieved Nerie, holding him against her shoulder. The child whimpered at being woken. “Don’t punish me now for my past sins. What if the master sends me away? What then? Will you tear my son from me? Deprive him of his mother? I never thought you could be so cruel.”

The furrow creasing Arruns’ brow deepened. “To protect you means I must deceive the master.”

“You will not be deceiving him. The threat has passed. He need never know.” She placed her hand on his chest. “And I have changed. You know I have.”

Arruns stepped back from her, retreating inwardly, too, leaving passion and affection in his wake. “It is not so simple.” He reached over and placed his hand on Nerie’s back, scanning her face, reproach in his resinous eyes. “Why do you have to make it so hard to love you?”

As Semni watched him leave, she sat on the pallet and cradled her son. The headiness of lovemaking had vanished, the creeping fear that she had lost Arruns making her despair. His fleeting look of hurt on parting made her ashamed that he must fail in his duty if he was to protect her.

Yet w
as hope truly splintered into shards so minute it could never be repaired? She rocked Nerie, this boy whom she’d not wanted. The son of a ram had at last been claimed. Now he was her savior. She kissed his fair hair, determined to prove to Arruns that she could be a worthy wife. Then, like a broken pot that could be mended if enough pieces were intact, she hoped their son might be the glue that would bind his new father to his mother.

Glossary

Cast

The rain was teeming again, beating on the leather of the command tent. Inside, the air was steamy, the humidity heightened by high spirits and body heat, the sour sweat of battle augmented by fresh perspiration on flushed faces.

Pinna was the only woman present, having been called to tend to Camillus’ wound. She may have finally moved her possessions into his quarters but this was a time for men. Marcus was absent, though, keeping vigil over his damaged friend.